Angels Leave Big Footprints
by deangirl1
Summary: Dean's thoughts on seeing Raphael's "empty" vessel. Spoilers for 5.03. Comment fic meme request from LJ.


**Disclaimer:** This is a transformative work of fiction, created for entertainment purposes only. Based on the original creation of E. Kripke.

**A/N:** This was in answer to a comment meme request on LJ. Dean's thoughts on seeing Raphael's "empty" vessel. So spoilers for 5.03.

* * *

It's not like he hadn't thought about it. Saving people was what he did. That was his whole point in letting Sam leave. He had to be able to concentrate on saving as many people as possible. Letting Michael in, well, that at least had the potential of saving a lot of people. It had the potential of saving the world.

But Dean just couldn't get past the fact that he would be letting something else inside his skin. He'd been a hunter almost his entire life. He'd killed things that crawled inside you, almost his entire life. It wasn't the kind of prejudice you just got over. Dean really couldn't distinguish between being possessed by a demon and letting an angel get up inside you. It was rape any way you wanted to slice it.

He'd seen what that kind of shit did to his Dad when Azazel did it. To Sam when Meg did it. To Jimmy when Castiel did it. And now to the poor bastard that Raphael had squatted in.

Apparently, Archangels were even harder on a body than your average supernatural leech. Not surprising when you considered that looking at an angel would burn your eyes out and listening to one would explode your eardrums. The supernatural acid reflux from having one in you would have to be a bitch.

Dean wasn't afraid to die. He'd concede to himself in the dead of night that he was terrified of going back to hell, but he'd never admit it out loud. Dean wasn't afraid of pain. It wasn't the physical pain in hell that had made him finally give in to Alistair, after all.

So no. It wasn't death or pain that he was afraid of that made his blood run cold when he gazed in the hospital window at the now "empty" vessel.

It was the loss of control. It was being at the mercy of others. It was being a burden. Those things terrified him, made his blood run cold, and stiffened his resolve into a diamond tower. Those were the things that had broken him in hell.

Dean could barely tear his eyes from the drooling figure in the wheelchair.

_It would be far worse for you. Michael is stronger than Raphael._

What would that mean? What would that leave him as?

Dean saw a figure. Strapped into a wheelchair, or strapped into a bed – unable to even hold up its head.

The figure is blind and deaf. Drooling. Unable to eat for himself. Unable to clean himself. Unable to perform _any_ bodily functions for himself. Unable to move.

Suddenly, Dean inhabited that existence. Unable to connect in any way with his environment, yet tortured by the sense of touch. Startled by any touch because there was no way to know it was coming. Every touch was excruciatingly painful – that one sense that was left to him being a raw and open conduit, distilling all sensation to the nth degree. Pain ripping through him, but he is unable to relieve the pain or mitigate it in any way because he is trapped in the burned out shell of his own body, unable to coerce it to respond in any way.

Dean knew that an angel wouldn't kill him outright. Not even after said angel had effectively burned out his body. No. The shell would have to live until it died naturally. No mercy killings in Heaven.

Dean considered getting the angels a book detailing the many uses of irony. Clearly, they'd been listening to Alanis Morrissette and were completely missing the point.

Dean could foresee a future that yawned ahead of him. At the mercy of hands that he didn't know, or worse yet, maybe those he did know. Maybe it would fall to Bobby or Sam to look after all his needs. A constant reminder on what all this had cost all of them. Of their own guilt and responsibility. A burden that would make it impossible for them to move on.

"Are you okay?" Cas' worried voice broke in to Dean's fevered thoughts as the angel caught his elbow as Dean stumbled.

"Yeah. M'fine," Dean mumbled, half-heartedly trying to wrench his elbow away and surreptitiously trying to figure out where they were exactly.

Cas tightened his hold on Dean's arm. Dean realized he was trembling.

"We will find another way," Cas said without looking at Dean.

Dean could only nod. They'd have to. His decision was more firmly fixed than ever.

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_(Blather alert… read at own risk…)_

**A/N2:** So, I know I owe a lot of replies and I am letting a bunch of wip's languish. Real Life is as much of an unruly bitch as always. This season has me wrapped firmly in its wonderful threads, so these little snippets are literally busting out on my keyboard. Please don't think that I don't cherish every review I get. So much so that I have over 3000 messages in my inbox… Yep. That's how long just that to-do list is… (not all reviews awaiting replies!!!) Please don't let that discourage you from letting me know what you think….

**Note on the title:** In case the title is confusing… I'm referencing a recycling term about leaving a footprint on the planet. The kinder you are and the better you recycle, the less you hurt/change/disturb the planet and the smaller your footprint. Sorry if I'm being Captain Obvious here…


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